“Yes, but how long?” asked Ethel, as she took up her knife and chipped the shell of one. “About an hour and a half,” said she, answering her own question. “You meant well, Philip, but you didn’t know. These are as hard as a rock and not yet cold. I hope the coffee is better.” Ethel is not usually so fault finding, but I laid it to her broken sleep, and said, “The _bread_ is _cut_ pretty well. And the butter is just as good as if Minerva had put it on the table herself.” “Yes, the bread and butter are quite a success, Phil, but this coffee—” “Mild?” said I, taking my cue from the color of it as she poured. “I should say so. It looks like a substitute for coffee.” “Then I guess I don’t care for any,” said I. “But anyhow, you didn’t have to do any of the preparing, and we’ll leave it for Minerva to wash the dishes.” I helped myself to milk and managed to eat an egg, but they are not very good when hot and hard, unless they are sliced and reposing on a bed of spinach. I began to feel a little hot myself that Minerva should have led me to this successful exposure of incompetence, and leaving the table I went up stairs and called out somewhat angrily, “Minerva, we’re all through breakfast and you’ll have to come right down and prepare lunch, as nothing has been fit to eat.” A snore was the only response that she gave, and I was glad she had not heard me. One cannot afford to be peremptory if one has but one string to one’s bow. I came down stairs again. Ethel was in the kitchen frying some eggs and preparing some more coffee. “Is she coming down?” asked she. “Er—no—she’s tired. But Ethel, I can’t have you getting breakfast. I’ve already got one, and although it wasn’t a success, we’d better make it do. You look tired out after the excitement of last night. Let’s eat some berries and drink a glass of milk and wait for lunch. Wasn’t that burglar funny last night?” “Philip, are you going to let Minerva stay in bed all day?” said Ethel. I sat down on the kitchen table and said, “Ethel, would you like to be waked up in the middle of the night and forced to prepare an extra meal? Minerva is a human being and she is tired. You’re a human being and you’re tired. Let us let Minerva spend this one day in bed taking the rest cure, and after we’ve eaten this second breakfast, which smells pretty good, _we’ll_ spend the day out doors.” “But Minerva is insubordinate.”